For Now, We Are Young
by ofhouseelvesandchildrenstales
Summary: Rose Weasley is dreading the party at Malfoy Manor. She's just become a Prefect and her fifth year at Hogwarts is about to begin. If she can survive the summer, that is. Rose/Scorpius
1. Chapter 1

Rosie kicked the chest of drawers and sank down on her bed, her foot throbbing painfully. Nothing, not even violence against the furniture, was making her feel any better or any less bored. As she sat there, staring blankly out the window, she saw birds soaring lazily past and further, over the hills, a heat haze had descended. That was half the problem - it was too hot.

"Everything alright?" her dad stuck his head round the door, "I heard a crash."

"I'm fine," Rosie said unconvincingly, lying back on the bed and sighing angrily.

"I could help you pretend you're ill so you don't have to go?" her dad suggested, "I'm pretty good at making it look like someone's got Spattergroit actually."

In spite of herself, Rosie laughed.

"I don't think it'd fool Mum somehow," she sat up, shaking her head as if to clear it, "Nope, I think I'll just have to go and get on with it."

"Diagon Alley tomorrow," Dad said encouragingly, "We'll get you something nice to make up for the fact you have to spend the evening in that place."

"Thanks, Dad," Rosie smiled and her dad left, closing the door behind him.

The sun had dipped to touch the tops of the trees in the garden, turning them golden. She supposed she'd have to get ready to leave soon. Her dress hung on the wardrobe door - pale gold and made of finest satin. It was very old; her aunt Ginny had worn it when she was bridesmaid at Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's wedding. The dress, once floorlength, had been taken up by Rosie's expert hand. It now reached her mid-thigh. She hadn't yet told her parents about the alteration.

Once Rosie had showered and dried her hair (with magic - who was going to know?), she put on the dress and brushed her thick, dark curls into some sort of order. As she tried to pin the front back, she frowned at her reflection in the mirror. She hated seeing herself like this - all dressed up and looking entirely out of place. She felt like an impostor, her features too sullen and her eyes not wide enough to count as 'beautiful'. The best thing Rosie could find to say about her own reflection was that she was interesting. Her long, faintly catlike grey eyes and full, dark lips gave her face a strange kind of fascination. And her hair, although annoying in the hot, humid weather, was undeniably magnificent.

"Rosie, you ready yet? Mum's made some dinner for us before we-" Hugo, Rosie's younger brother, stood in the doorway, out of breath and dressed in dark green dress robes, his eyes widening in horror, "Rosie..." he said slowly, "That's not Aunt Ginny's dress, is it?"

"Yes, it is," she snapped, putting on a little perfume and picking up her bag. She made to leave, but Hugo was still standing there, looking slightly terrified.

"Mum is going to _destroy _you," he said.

"Well, I don't see why," Rosie replied archly, "Aunt Ginny gave the dress to me. I don't suppose she would care that I've updated it."

"Updated? You practically cut it in half," Hugo shook his head, "Aren't you going to wear your prefect's badge?"

"No!" Rosie laughed cruelly. In truth, she didn't even want to be a prefect and she intended to go and ask Professor McGonagall to reconsider the second she got back to Hogwarts, "The last thing I need is for everyone to know about that."

Rosie trailed down the stairs after her brother, her movement slightly restricted by the dress. Why couldn't she have just worn the Muggle clothes she always wore in the holidays? Jeans and t-shirts. Nothing so ridiculous.

In the kitchen, Hermione Weasley was serving salad onto two plates for her children. A witch of prodigious skill, she could've Transfigured the table into a coach and four, but her cooking skills were less than impressive. She favoured salads and stuff that could be put in the oven and left alone.

"Mum," Hugo wheedled, smirking at his sister, "Look at what Rosie's done to Aunt Ginny's dress!"

Rosie tutted as her mother looked round. Her eyes widened as she took in the changes her daughter had made to the dress.

"We can easily change it back," Hermione said breezily, picking up her wand from the counter, "Hold still a minute, Rosie."

"No," Rosie shook her head and darted behind the table, "I'm wearing it like this, Mum."

"Don't be ridiculous, it won't-"

"If I have to go to this bloody party, then I will wear whatever I want, alright?" Rosie's voice rose a little more than she would've liked.

Everyone fell silent. Hugo and his father were exchanging uneasy looks, as if they were desperate to sidle out of the kitchen and get away from the whole situation. Mother and daughter stood facing each other, Rosie's cheeks red with anger and embarrassment and her mother's face fixed in a frown.

"Alright," Hermione said eventually, "Wear it like that. But when you come home, I'll lengthen it again. Okay?"

"Fine," Rosie spluttered, unsure what to make of her mum's change of heart.

"But if you ever speak to me like that again, you can be sure you won't be going anywhere other than Hogwarts, is that clear?" Mum said, her tone dangerously icy.

"Yes," Rosie replied, knowing better than to come back with any witty retort. She sat down at the table with Hugo and drew her plate toward her. If she was going to this party, she was not going to go on an empty stomach.

After they had finished eating, the two Weasley children went out into the front yard, which was golden with the setting sun. Their father went with them and showed them the Portkey that lay on the ground beside the door. It was a broken flowerpot. Rosie wasn't sure she wanted to touch it, but Dad assured them it would taken them straight there. Straight to Malfoy Manor.

"Sorry I can't come with you," Dad said as they waited for the right moment to touch their fingers to the Portkey and disappear.

"No you're not," Rosie said with a smirk, "You don't want to go anywhere near Mr Malfoy."

"Well, yeah, there is that," he laughed, "Just, erm, don't have too much Butterbeer, alright? Or Firewhiskey," he added in an undertone. Rosie felt her dad had a much better understanding of what Hogwarts kids got up to than Mum did.

"See you later," Rosie said, as she and Hugo touched the flowerpot and were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, I feel like an utter plank for admitting this, but when I first had the idea for this fanfiction, I was looking at the family tree for the next generation, and yet I never considered that Albus & Rose were cousins. Thank you, reviewers, for pointing that out. When I read your reviews, I facepalmed for a while, and then decided how I'm going to write the rest of it...**

**Here's the revised second chapter.**

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Spinning through time and space was a disorientating experience at the best of times. In sandals and a short dress, it was even worse. Rosie much preferred the Floo network, or even side-along Apparition to the nightmare of Portkeys. She landed with as much dignity as possible and realized she was standing at the bottom of the driveway that led up to Malfoy Manor.

"Not the most exact Portkey, was it?" Hugo said grumpily, getting off the ground and dusting himself off.

"No," Rosie said distractedly, looking up at the house which was ablaze with light. It was darker here, as Malfoy Manor was further north than her own home. But it was probably even hotter.

There was no sea breeze here. Rosie felt the heat pressing in on her like a living thing, "Come on. We'd better get walking."

Rosie and her brother began the long walk up the dusky driveway. The grounds, which had once been showy and resplendent with white peacocks and carefully-trimmed hedges were now flat, beautiful and neat. The house looked welcoming, not foreboding.

"Why's Scorpius having his party at his _grandparents' _house?" Hugo said disgustedly as they walked.

"Well, look at it," Rosie snapped. She was getting steadily more irritable because her high-heeled sandals didn't seem to be coping well with the gravel driveway, "Wouldn't you want to have your birthday party there?"

"But he lives in London, doesn't he? I mean, with his parents," Hugo glanced at his sister.

"I think so," she snapped, "How would I know?"

That was the end of the conversation. They didn't say a word to each other until they reached the house, by which time they could see more teenagers flocking the stone stairs which led to the Malfoys' front door. Rosie noted the other girls' dresses, hastily comparing them to her own. Some were dressed predictably in childish dress robes from Madam Malkin's, but some wore beautiful dresses even finer and more fashionable than her own. Rosie felt like a child next to some of them. A pair of Slytherin sixth years glowered at her as she approached, their dresses pure silk and glowing with magic.

"Oh, there's Jacob," Hugo said, waving at his friend who had obviously just arrived too, "See ya later, Ro," he rushed off to join him, and Rosie felt vulnerable for a second, like she wanted her brother to come back. Even though he was two years younger and kind of annoying.

"Oh. My. God. Rose Weasley!"

Just as she turned, Rosie felt hands around her arm. It was her friend Isabella Prince, a Hufflepuff girl from Rosie's year. She was remarkably beautiful - tall and thin with pale skin and long, dark, straight hair. Her eyes were huge and dark and she wore an incredibly daring black lace dress.

"That is _too _adorable," she said, touching the fabric of Rosie's dress, "I had no idea you knew your way round a shop." It was also typical of Isabella to talk like someone in an American Muggle television show. When she was at Hogwarts, she devoured Muggle romance novels, constantly filling Rosie in on the doings of sparkly vampires.

"Isabella, it was my aunt's," Rosie said awkwardly, not liking the amount of attention Isabella's loud voice was drawing. Now, it seemed everyone was looking at them as they stood at the foot of the Malfoys' steps.

"Everyone's here, you know," Isabella whispered conspiratorially, taking Rosie's arm and walking her up the stairs, "I mean _everyone. _Almost all of Hogwarts. Except, like, the losers who no one wants to invite."

Isabella was Muggle-born, but she still managed to be one of the most popular girls at school, just because she was so pretty. She was also kind, even though she liked to pretend otherwise. Rosie knew that in their first year, Isabella had gone to Professor McGonagall and begged to be allowed into Slytherin. The headmistress had told her she had to accept that she was a kind, loyal person.

"Albus was looking for you, Ro," Isabella said, but Rosie's attention was caught by the foyer in which they now found themselves. It was flocked with everyone she knew from Hogwarts, all glittering in their finery beneath a large chandelier. Paintings on the walls looked down sternly. It was like something from a fairytale. Rosie was instantly pleased she'd decided to come and reject her dad's offer of a fake dose of Spattergroit.

"Hmm?" she said distractedly, glancing from Isabella to the chandelier.

"_Albus,_" Isabella hissed, tugging Rosie's arm, "He was looking for you."

"I wonder what he wants now..." Rosie was still distracted. She had no idea what Albus Severus Potter could want to talk to her about. She hadn't seen him since the end of term.

"Is _James _coming, that's what I want to know?" Isabella smiled, "Definitely the better-looking one."

"Shut up, Izzie. They're my _cousins_," Rosie said in a grim voice, "Let's just... go in and see what's going on."

They made their way through the chattering crowd, up the wide staircase and into a vast room from which most of the guests were coming and going. Rosie could imagine the great, lavish balls that must've been held in the room in previous centuries, everyone in their dress robes. Tonight, it was not disappointing. Lit with floating crystal skulls that held tiny candles and draped in black, the room was a mixture of impossibly cool and wonderfully old-fashioned.

"Could've been a bit more subtle, couldn't he?" Rosie said, nodding at the ice sculpture of the Slytherin serpent that dominated the black-draped bar, "Scorpius is much too proud of being a smug, Pure-Blood git, in my opinion"

"Not all Slytherins are-!" Isabella began to protest, but she was cut off by a quiet, smiling voice behind the two girls.

"I'm quite hurt, Weasley. I wonder why you bothered coming if you're so against my taste in decoration," Scorpius himself was standing in the doorway to the ballroom. His blonde hair was untidy, as always, and he'd grown even taller since Rosie saw him last. Dislike made her cheeks colour as she scowled at him, "I heard _you've _been made a Prefect too. Not really a surprise, is it?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Rosie growled, taking a step towards him and feeling Isabella grab her wrist and pull her back.

Scorpius just smirked, his blue eyes glittering slightly. He smoothed imaginary creases from his black dress robes. Rosie could imagine him taking ages over choosing them, insisting on the best, most fashionable robes he could find. She would bet her last Galleon that he'd even spent hours on that stupid hair style of his - magicking his slightly too-long curls into artful disarray so he looked windswept.

"You're pretty worked-up, Weasley," he said finally, "I suggest you get some Firewhiskey and try to loosen up a little. You're spoiling the atmosphere."

With that, he sloped off, leaving Rosie standing there, her face still burning and anger making her quite speechless. He was _impossible. _It wasn't enough that they rivalled each other for top of the year - he had to try and out-do her at his own birthday party. It was completely pathetic, and she wanted to tell Isabella this, but she was having trouble forming words.

"We should get some drinks," Isabella said at last, displaying a rare flash of tact. She patted Rosie's arm and led her off to find something to drink.

At the bar, Scorpius's mother, Astoria, was handing out drinks to the Hogwarts students. She smiled and made conversation with everyone, sparkling in her silver gown. She was a small woman with chestnut curls that she had pinned up carefully. Rosie noticed that the only things Scorpius had inherited from her in looks were his curls and his eyes. Otherwise, he was his father's double. Draco Malfoy stood against the wall behind his wife, looking mildly disapproving of the milling teenagers.

"Hello," Astoria said brightly to Rosie and Isabella, "What would you like?"

"Two butterbeers, please," Isabella said, "I like your dress, Mrs Malfoy."

"Thank you! Yours is lovely!" Astoria Malfoy beamed, "Are you friends of Scorpius's?"

"He's in our year," Isabella explained, as Rosie glowered, "I'm Isabella Prince. From Hufflepuff. And this is Rose Weasley. She's in Gryffindor."

Rosie nodded awkwardly at Scorpius's mother, still inwardly reeling from her argument with him. She did notice, however, that Mr Malfoy had looked at her with sudden interest and a slight sneer when Isabella had given her name. She knew that her parents had been at school with Draco Malfoy, and that they had not been friends, but she wondered quite how much they'd hated each other. Surely not as much as she and Scorpius hated each other?

"It was lovely to meet you," Astoria said finally. Rosie managed a smile and walked away with her friend, clutching her bottle of butterbeer.

For a while, Rosie and Isabella stood together, talking quietly about other people's dress robes and gossip from school. Rosie had missed her friends and was quite happy talking to Isabella for a while. She'd calmed down and was looking forward to later, when it was rumoured there would be music and dancing. Suddenly, though, Isabella stopped talking mid-sentence and, following her gaze to the long, open doors that led to the terrace, Rosie saw James. When their eyes met, he gave her a brief, disinterested wave. He was about to go into his seventh year and didn't really pay much attention to Rosie or the others, considering himself too old and far too cool.

"Go and talk to him," Rosie told Isabella, more for her own amusement than anything else. She watched as Isabella went over and engaged a surprised-looking James in animated conversation.

"Disgusting," a voice behind Rosie said. She turned and saw Albus and Lily Potter. Albus was half-grinning at his older brother and Isabella, "He's a liability when you go out - there's always someone fawning over him."

"Hey, Al," Rosie said, glad of someone to talk to, "This party's pretty dull, isn't it?"

"I was just saying the same to Lily," he glanced at his younger sister, who looked pleased to be included for once, "There's something we could do to liven it up a bit, though."

"Yeah?" he had Rosie's attention now. Maybe it was her conversation with Scorpius, but she was tempted to do something reckless just to make herself feel better.

"Yeah," Albus produced a large bottle of firewhiskey from his robes with a flourish, "Find Hugo. Bring your friend and my show-off of a brother. Let's see what Malfoy Manor's grounds are like, eh?"

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**PS. if you like this, I suggest you read my other fanfiction, which is more ~serious and just... better. It needs reviews. It's lonely. :3**


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